


A Biting Curse

by IndigoDream



Series: Bribe & Reward fics [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Established Relationship, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Monster Jaskier | Dandelion, Rescue, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: There are a lot of things people expect from Jaskier, when they first see him: he's always dressed colourfully, bright and cheerful colours, so they believe him to be bright and cheerful as well; his songs are filled with beautiful imagery, so they expect his speech to be reflecting that. Most importantly, they always mistake his strength.It's easy to be forgotten when one travels with Geralt of Rivia.--Jaskier gets somewhat kidnapped. Although, it's unclear whether he is the one in danger, or whether his captors are.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Bribe & Reward fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745836
Comments: 24
Kudos: 521





	A Biting Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Endlessuphillclimb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endlessuphillclimb/gifts).



> Woooh!! This fic is for @Endlessuphillclimb! Hope you'll enjoy, also this was in my drafts as "Bitey Bitey" so make of that what you will

There are a lot of things people expect from Jaskier, when they first see him: he's always dressed colourfully, bright and cheerful colours, so they believe him to be bright and cheerful as well; his songs are filled with beautiful imagery, so they expect his speech to be reflecting that. Most importantly, they always mistake his strength. 

It's easy to be forgotten when one travels with Geralt of Rivia. The witcher's muscles are clear and well defined, showing through his armors and regularly wearing down his clothes, a fact that Jaskier both love and despise. It does make his life much harder when his lover's muscles are shining with sweat in the delicate sunlight of the morning. How is he supposed to do anything but be distracted and contemplate the sheer beauty and brute strength of Geralt? 

So yes, people forget that Jaskier is just as tall and that he is rather strong himself. Or rather, they assume that he is not. They see his clothes, his gestures, his friendliness, and they believe they know all there is to know about him. They assume he will be an easy target. 

Which is what has led him into this specific predicament. 

Geralt had left on a hunt the previous night, and he had warned Jaskier that he would probably not come back right away. Jaskier wasn't overly worried, because Geralt hadn't been worried, and if it was fine by witcher's standards, then it was fine by Jaskier's standards. After all, the only experience he had with monster hunting was running away from them, and killing them when he accidentally happened to be on the path of a determined monster. 

In the middle of the day, the inn had been empty of people, and Jaskier had wandered outside into the streets of the small town they had stopped in. He can't bother to remember the name of it, but the town is small, and Geralt hadn't intended for them to stay there. 

What happened to Jaskier was this: he had been walking without any real purpose, simply enjoying the autumn sun on his skin and breathing in the cool air. A rock had hit the back of his head and he had been left stunned, groaning as the pain bloomed at the base of his skull. The mud seeped into his clothes when he fell down, and another hit on the back of his head had served to force him unconscious. 

Now, he is in what feels like the back of a cart, and the road, while not slow, feels definitely slower than Jaskier's usual pace. His eyes are covered with black tissue, and his hands are bound together in his back. He almost uses chaos, almost draws on the raw, untethered strength of the earth, but decides against it. With his eyes gone and his hands bound, it would be better to wait to avoid destroying things he cannot see and hear. 

“The witcher’s pet is awake,” he hears a gruff voice say, and there is a kick to his ribs. “Come on, aren’t you gonna sing us a song, bard?” 

“Fuck off,” he growls in the direction of the voice, his teeth showing. 

“Melitele’s fucking tits,” another voice shouts out. “Are you guys sure that one is the right one? It has really big teeth, and they ain’t all that human either!” 

“Shut the fuck up, Trexier!” A third voice joins in, and Jaskier is pretty sure that one, he has heard before. “Of course it’s him. That freak is probably not human, a mutant like his witcher.” 

“Who are you and what do you want from me,” Jaskier demands as there is a slight bump on the road and his head lulls back and forth, the tissue over his eyes sliding down slightly. 

He is able to peer at the three men around him. There is one sitting across from him, and he looks quite young. Jaskier doesn’t give him more than 25 years old, at most. He is glancing around nervously, his eyes flitting to Jaskier every few seconds. The bard guesses this one is Trexier. Young, and relatively smart, at least. 

The two others are older. They bear scars on their cheeks, running down their necks, and a continuation of it must run through their arms, because their hands have scars as well. They are ugly, red and crusty, yet he can tell they should probably be healed by now. If he had to guess, he’d say they are suffering from some minor curse. If the way he is being treated is any indication of how they treat guests in town, it doesn’t surprise him. 

“Who said you could ask questions?” The one driving the cart asks, and the one next to Jaskier snickers, kicking him in the knee and trapping it under his feet, forcing the bone to bend at an unnatural angle. “Shut up, freak.” 

“Truly, the essence of charm,” Jaskier groans as he feels his knee cracking slightly under the pressure. “Wonder who taught you those manners. Your mothers must be so proud of having you as sons.” 

The one next to Jaskier, definitely the most cruel of the three, reapplies pressure on his knee, and Jaskier groans of pain again. Fuck this, he is definitely using his chaos.

The cloth that had been on his eyes is now covering the lower half of his face, but it slides further down as the horse is led through a rather unused forest path. Trexier frowns and elbows the man currently trying to break Jaskier’s knee. 

“Gil, his eyes, he can _see_ us!” 

“You’re such a fucking coward,” Gil rolls his eyes. “Just put it back on his eyes.” 

“What if he does some weird magic on me? I ain’t like you and Fred, I don’t have no protection against curses and magic!” 

Gil shoves him slightly, but forcefully. “Coward.” 

He moves closer to Jaskier then, unafraid. His eyes are hard, an angry blue that looks nothing like Jaskier’s. Jaskier has the blue of freedom, of the sea and sky. Gil has the blue of ice and hatred. He approaches his hands, and the bard smirks. 

The thing about Jaskier is that people assume he is _human_. Most of the time, he is happy to let them believe so; after all it is more trouble to set them right and risk being attacked than to pose as a boring, fragile, human bard. 

There are some moments that make him want to challenge that though. Moments where he wants to showcase how powerful he can be. After all, Jaskier is a simple bard mostly thanks to Geralt. Sure, he doesn’t have the slightly twisted disposition his siblings do. He isn’t usually one to harm humans. He doesn’t usually _want_ to do so. 

His teeth sink into the man’s skin, not hard enough to break the bones, but definitely hard enough to pierce the skin, and blood gushes in his mouth. The taste is too metallic for him, and when he finally let go, he spits it out at Trexier’s feet, grinning. 

Fred has startled and stopped the horse at the loud yell Gil let out when Jaskier bit him. 

“What the fuck?” Fred asks, turning around. 

Gil brandishes his arm, blood still falling out of the bite marks. “He bit me!” 

“May you die from it,” Jaskier sings lightly, but he doesn’t lace any chaos through the words. It can wait. He is angry enough to want to play with them, to make them pay for trying to hurt him like this. 

The three men climb down the cart, but Jaskier stays there, stretching his bound legs from under him. Only the ankles are tied together, and if he applied enough pressure, he could probably get out. He is just starting to have fun though, blood leaking slightly down his shirt, and he grins at the three men, who are all looking at him with a mixture of fear and hatred. 

“The bastard fucking cursed me!” Gil says, brandishing his arm. “Look what he did to me!”

“It wasn’t a curse,” Fred snarls and slaps Gil’s arm away. “You are just a fucking asshole without a brain!” 

“Are you sure I didn’t curse him?” Jaskier interjects with a grin, letting his blue eyes drop their human glamor and take up the whole eyes. “After all, who are you to say what is a curse, or isn’t?” 

“Fucking monsters,” Fred snarls. “Bet the witchers keep you around just because you’re fucking useless. You could harm anything, that’s why you’re still alive, monster.” 

Jaskier grins, tilts his head, scales running up and down his face and neck. “Harmless, uh? You are the brainless one, not your companion. The only one who has some brains left is the one shitting his pants right now.” 

Trexier recognizes himself without being mentioned and he walks backwards, shaking with fear. Jaskier knows he probably shouldn’t be taking so much pleasure in this, but he grins and lets his tongue slither out of his mouth. Trexier runs away screaming. 

Sirens are dangerous, after all, and Jaskier is no less a siren when he is out of water. He just has to make sure to keep his gills in, and that his wings don’t stretch out as well. He would be in some serious troubles with Geralt, if he happened to fully show himself as a monster. It’s not as if he would let them live, but well. Geralt has made it clear he doesn’t want to be cleaning up his mess and be hired to kill Jaskier. _Very clear._

Fred grabs the sword hanging from his belt and points it at Jaskier. “Stay back monster!” 

“Fred,” Gil shakes his friend’s shoulder, “come on, we can leave, he didn’t stop Trexier from going!” 

“Oh, shut up you coward! That bastard bit you and now you are acting like he is stronger than us? If we don’t do this, we won’t get the money!” 

“Oh, the money?” Jaskier tilts his head, his tongue slithering in and out of his mouth as he looks at them, licking away the few drops of blood that remained on his cheeks and lips. It’s not his favourite, but he has to admit that his family may have a point that human blood and flesh can be very nourishing. “So, you are being paid to capture me?” 

He could simply ensnare them, sing and break their minds, but he doesn’t think he needs it, in truth. They are already afraid, the taste of it pungent in the air, despite Jaskier still being tied. 

“Shut up,” Fred yells again and points his sword back at Jaskier. “You don’t get to ask questions!” 

“I wouldn’t have to do so if you were just a bit more forthcoming with the informations.” 

“Fred, come on, let’s go! He bit me, and he cursed me, that’s enough!” 

“He didn’t curse you, you idiot,” Fred snarls and throws him off his shoulder again. 

“But you heard him! He _cursed_ me!”

“And frankly, considering how boring this conversation is, I might consider cursing you both now.” Jaskier mock yawns, his teeth back to their human form, and when he bats his eyes at them, he is looking absolutely normal, nothing more than just the bard they had thought he was. “But after all, how could I? I’m just human, isn’t it?” 

Now, their fear isn’t simply delicious. It’s so vibrant in the air, Jaskier is pretty certain it will stick to them for the rest of their lives. 

There is a noise a bit farther off, footsteps too quiet to be anyone but one person, and Jaskier grins, relaxing in the cart. 

“I advise you run as fast as you can, as far as you can, my good friends.” He says this with a grin. “As you said, I’m a _witcher’s_ pet, aren’t I? Surely, you must know it isn’t smart to steal from a witcher.” 

They still completely, but it’s too late. Geralt has heard Jaskier’s voice and the bard can feel him veering towards them. Every single step he takes is a death sentence for those men. No one hurts Jaskier, not if they wish to live. And they did almost break his leg. After all, they don’t know that he will heal from this in barely a day. But they had been hired to kidnap him… 

“Fuck,” Gil says and grabs Fred. “Let’s go!” 

“He’s lying, no one is coming!” Despite saying this, the leader is shaking, stepping back slightly. “No one is coming, Gil. We are alone!” 

“Wow, you really are stupid.” Jaskier grins and lets his nails grow until they are sharp enough to cut through the ropes holding his wrists, and when he moves his arms, rubbing his wrists with a bit of a pout, they are normal again. “And you are shitty with ropes.” 

“You have a tendency to slip out of your bonds, Jaskier.” Geralt growls as he steps in their line of sight. “Don’t be too unfair with them, you’re more slippery than an eel when you want to.” 

“Darling, you took more time than I expected,” Jaskier winks and grins at the two men frozen in place. “Have you met my husband?” 

“Don’t say we are married, you have yet to ask Vesemir if you can have my hand,” Geralt deadpans and sheathes his swords. 

Fred and Gil slowly come back to themselves, and they both take a step backwards, but they are caught between Geralt and Jaskier, and neither options must seem appealing. They still again as Geralt takes another step forward. 

“Someone paid them, darling,” Jaskier smiles slightly. “Might not be worth killing them, but I wouldn’t say no to that. It’s your choice.” 

“Did they hurt you?” Geralt takes another step forward, slow like he is stalking his prey. 

“That one nearly broke my leg,” Jaskier nods towards Gil, and then looks at Fred with a devilish grin. “But this one has been calling me a freak for a little bit.” 

Geralt hums, and he draws his steel sword again. “Can’t have that.” 

Gil steps back towards the cart, looking terrified. He falls down, and Fred startles at the sound of the body hitting the floor. There is a moment where the two men stare at each other, but then Gil turns towards Jaskier. 

“Please, please don’t kill us! If I tell you who hired us, will you let us live?” 

_An exchange of information could be interesting,_ Jaskier thinks quietly. Is it worth letting them live though? He isn’t quite sure of that just yet. He glances upwards, looking at Geralt, and the witcher only shrugs. Geralt isn’t keen on killing humans, but for Jaskier, he would do it. He has done it before, albeit reluctantly. Jaskier has a tendency, after all, of finding himself in troubles.

“Alright, talk,” he orders to the man. 

“It was-“ 

“You fucking traitor!” Fred roars and throws himself at him, sword raised again, but in a few steps, Geralt is holding him by the throat and smirking slightly as his own blade is pressed against the man’s throat. 

“Are you sure you want to stop him from speaking? Because your friend is the only reason why you aren’t dead just yet.” 

“Fuck you, you freak! You and your kind, you are just monsters like all the others! Curse you and—“ 

He doesn’t get to finish, his throat slit open by Geralt with a snarl. Gil shakes even more next to the cart, and Jaskier looks down at him. He had thought him cruel earlier, and there is no doubt that he is, but he is also pathetic. He doesn’t even deserve to die. 

“You don’t want to end up like your friend, do you?” He tilts his head, smiling sweetly as Geralt cleans his sword on the dead man’s shirt. “You better start talking then.” 

Gil does, strangely enough, and Jaskier listens carefully as he denounces a lord Geralt had accomplished a minor contract for a few weeks back. Apparently, he hadn’t been satisfied with having to pay Geralt for his services, and had planned to get Jaskier as leverage for getting his money back. 

With a snarl, Geralt sheathes his sword again, and lifts Jaskier up in his arms. 

“Back to town for Roach and my payment, and then we can get going to teach that lord a lesson.” 

Jaskier grins and tilts Geralt’s head down, so he can receive a kiss. Behind them, Gil is still shaking, terrified, but they don’t kill him. They have better to do. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier murmurs when they are halfway to the town. 

“Just thought you might need a hand.” Geralt tightens his hold on him. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“I’m always alright when I’m in your arms.” 

Geralt chuckles slightly. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” 

“Wasn’t exactly my fault,” Jaskier yawns and closes his eyes. “But alright, my love.” 

He lets Geralt carry him back to town, lulled by the gentle movements. They have a revenge to take, but for now, Jaskier enjoys being back with Geralt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it :D 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudos! You can also come see me on tumblr at [@saltytransidiot](https://saltytransidiot.tumblr.com)!


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